Change
by crazygee
Summary: Now a victor of the Hunger Games with fame, riches and glory, what else has changed in Katniss Everdeen's life?
1. Chapter 1: At The Train

**DISCLAIMER**: I own up to nothing.

**SUMMARY**: The aftermath of the games and all the changes that followed. Katniss' story.

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Peeta held my hand, his fingers applying no pressure to mine as we prepared ourselves for _home_. We have been away for weeks and yet it felt like months, even years, since we left District 12. I feel like a stranger, a completely different person from the time that I left this place to here and now. My hands are clammy with sweat so I desperately hold on to this one grip of sanity beside me. I squeeze his hand expecting his grip to tighten, but it does nothing. All the more it slackens as he stares dead ahead as if seeing past the walls of this train we're trapped in.

"_I miss you, Peeta,"_ I say in my head, knowing how unfair it is to say to a boy you lied to, the boy who loves you. No, after what I said to him, and with how he couldn't even bear to look at me at this very moment, how hollow his voice was when he extended his hand to me for the cameras seconds ago, he is now this boy who loved me. Past tense.

I remember how angry I was when he announced to the whole world that he loves me. I remember how strong my hands were, shoving him the moment I went out of the elevator, my own hands responsible for the visible scars in his hands. I remember the guilt I felt after realizing that all he did worked in my favor. And now, after everything he has done for me, I caused him nothing but pain. I hurt him physically then. I hurt him emotionally now. I am responsible for the invisible scars in his heart. I am.

Guilt. I feel it again and I feel it more strongly than ever.

Longing. I felt it before, longing for home, longing to hear Prim's giggles whenever I poke her stomach. I felt it when I missed Gale's presence in the woods, his promise of always getting my back. I feel it again, today.

I feel it for Peeta. He would stare at me for hours back in the arena, smiling at me every now and then. It didn't make me uncomfortable to the very least, even if it didn't make sense. To be honest, it made me feel safe. Secure. It made me feel that someone is always watching over me. I need it again today. I need to feel safe. I long for Peeta because I want him to look at me like the way he used to. But he never would, knowing that I faked it all. But I didn't fake them all! I cared for him too! Just not like how he cared for me. But why do I feel this too much guilt and longing? I want him to squeeze my hand, to put his arms around me and feel that he's here because even if our shoulders are touching, even if our hands are holding, I've never felt so alone. No one will understand me better than him. Not Prim. Not my mother. Not Gale. Especially Gale.

I know they watched the Games and they know the things that happened to me. But they don't know everything. They couldn't have known everything unless they step foot into that arena armed with the thought that you have to kill or be killed. They didn't sing someone to death, holding their hands as they breathe their last breath. They didn't spend the whole night hearing your enemy be mauled to death, his cries of pain echoing in the silence of the night. They didn't feel the coldness of their surrounding seeping into your soul as you desperately hold onto life, your will slowly crumbling with each passing minute. They could never associate the mockingjays' singing to a little brown skinned girl, the moon to the cries of pain of a menacing surly boy, the coldness to times when you felt life was slipping from your hands.

They didn't know. They couldn't know.

But _he _does. The same person standing next to me knows everything. Almost everything.

The idea that someone else understands is comforting, but with how things have worked out between us, all the comfort I felt for one split second vanished in a heartbeat. What good is there knowing that Peeta has been with me through this hell, if he couldn't even bear to look at me?

Where is your smile Peeta? Where is your humor? Where are you?

"I miss you," my lips say, acting on its own accord as one lone tear fell from my cheeks. I hastily wiped it away feeling defeated that my inner turmoil was too much for my indifferent mask to handle. But maybe it's a good thing. I want him to know that I'm not happy hurting him. I am hurting too. But could he ever understand?

I look at him desperately wanting him to look back at me and tell me that things are okay. I want him to forgive me, no matter how selfish it sounds. But just as I expected, he doesn't. His steely glare remains fixated ahead. I study his face and I saw his jaw clenching. "_There's your reaction Katniss"_, I tell myself. It's better than nothing.

Instantly, I now understand why Haymitch is always drunk for these past years. He drowns the pain with alcohol, because no one will ever understand what he has been through. He didn't have the luxury that I have, a partner who knows exactly what I have been through. But I didn't have the luxury that he had. He doesn't have the Capitol out to get to him and he doesn't have a partner who resents him.

The train comes to a stop, so I close my eyes. After the guilt and the longing, fear has now begun to step in. I became suddenly afraid of the onslaught of questions demanding me to relive experiences I rather forget, remember faces that haunt me night and day. I have taken lives in order that I might live, created lies for my survival amongst other brutal and horrific things I'd rather forget. Peeta is so much better in talking than I am. Would he still save me from this barrage of questions when he still thought that I loved him back, like what he did at the interviews? Was I really unfair to him, when all I did was to only secure our survival?

"_In another time"_, I command myself. This is not the time and place to sort things out so I breathe in and out to compose myself. I open my eyes to try to put on once again this mask that has become my friend that has never abandoned me.

"It's showtime," Peeta says in a tone so bland, so lifeless, so un-Peeta that I can't help but remember what he told me in the rooftop of the training center, the night before the games.

"_I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not." _

My heart broke with this memory, because the games didn't change him. I did.


	2. Chapter 2: The Reunion

**DISCLAIMER**: I own up to nothing.

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A few seconds from now, this door right in front of me will open and the whole population of Panem will witness how I break down in tears once I set foot on District 12's soil to reunite with my family. Some will be moved, some will be judgmental, and others will not give a damn. From the reaping up to now, my life has been made as one big spectacle where everyone thinks that they know me and could sympathize with me. But truth is, they really have no idea. Everything they see, have seen and will see is a ploy to win the favor of the people so that the sponsors could help ensure my survival. Now that I'm home, a survivor of the Capitol's brutality, one comforting fact is that it will all be over soon. I could have me, all to myself again.

_Just a few more hours_, I tell myself. _Now is not the time to start a rebellion, Katniss_. I must give them a show, especially now that the Capitol is out to get me. Remembering this terrifying fact immediately made my whole body to shudder, both of my hands to tremble, something I am sure Peeta will start to notice. At this moment, I have no choice but to succumb to the Capitol's demands, for my survival, yet again.

Pretend for the cameras. Hurt Peeta again. Save yourself. Save your family. Fool the Capitol.

I thought I am a winner of the games. But truth be told, with how things are, I am no victor. I am still fighting and pretending. When will this ever end? It certainly feels like there will be an existing cat and mouse game between the Capitol and me. My pseudo-romance with Peeta is the only thing preventing the Capitol for killing me off. One wrong move and I'm a goner. Me, and the rest of my family. If I get killed, the Capitol could put the blame on the families of the tributes I have killed. A tooth for a tooth, a life for a life.

Be vulnerable. Smile. Be in love. Cry. Giggle. Don't be yourself, Katniss. But who am I, really?

I could feel my heart rate accelerating, like my heart is going to jump right out of my chest. I clutch it with my free hand hoping that this trembling limb could somehow calm my racing heart and keep it there inside. Just in case it really decides to jump out of my ribcage, however impossible it might be. The feelings that I have been feeling earlier, guilt and longing towards this boy who is standing beside me, are now slowly being replaced with fear. I am not just afraid of the Capitol. I am also afraid of the unknown. Of what will happen next.

For three weeks, from the day of the reaping up to this moment, everything seemed like one big nightmare. Now that storm is about to pass, both Peeta and I will face reality head on, stripped of all pretenses we have created for our survival. The problem is that he has no facades to leave right at this very door. He was true from the very beginning while I… I'm not sure which was true and which wasn't.

I have ripped his heart open and am now stepping on it as I am holding his hand. Another lie. The very last one. Is it?

He disappeared for hours right after knowing that Haymitch has been coaching me all this time. I am pretty much sure that seeing me, let alone holding my hand, is the very last thing he wants to do right now. But we cannot escape each other even if we both want to, him, out of anger and I, out of guilt.

And what will happen once the cameras have all gone? With Prim, mother and Gale at my side, and Peeta with his family, shall I go back to being the girl who hunts and trades in the Hob and Peeta as the boy with the bread? Something tells me that I could never escape being labeled as the girl on fire and Peeta will never escape being the boy who loves the girl on fire, either.

I shake my head, ridding myself of these thoughts and all the questions that come along with it, and focus on home. Prim. Mother. Gale. Prim. Mother. Gale. There is plenty of time to sort out these feelings and plan for my next course of action. There is plenty of time to find the answers. Right now, what matters is that I maintain a smile to be plastered onto my face and never let go of Peeta's hand. What happens afterward is a whole new terrifying thought, but if I dwell on it, I could never step off this train and face reality. I must.

The door opens smoothly, quickly and noiselessly so that the transition from the silence inside the train to the noise outside caught me off guard. I am certain that almost all of my senses feel like they are going into over drive or simply shutting down because the scene before us is just too much to handle. I might be exaggerating but in truth, it is as if I could see, hear and feel almost everything all at once to the point of numbness.

Everything is jumbled like when one big feedback from a humongous speaker right in front of your face causes you to hear and see nothing all at once. I could feel the sweat from my palms gliding down my fingers onto the ground. Everything is just loud, chaotic and noisy.

Blinding and deafening. These 2 words describe what I am feeling, with both of my feet onto the platform, right after Peeta and I stepped off the train. All I am seeing is alternating black and white as I blink my eyes in succession, making it adjust to the flashes of what could be hundreds of cameras trained onto our faces. Not only are my irises hurting from these lights, I feel like my eardrums are on the verge of exploding.

Screaming. Everyone is screaming. Not screams of horror, like the screams I have been accustomed to hearing for three weeks in the arena. The people are screaming in celebration, in victory, chanting Peeta's name, together with mine. It certainly feels like the people are screaming at us and not for us.

It will be quite humorous to even admit that for a second, I wish I was still deaf in one ear just to lessen the blaring sounds coming from just about everywhere. It surely sounds like combinations of hundreds of gongs are being banged together and trumpets being blown to the maximum.

I use my spare hand, the one not holding Peeta's hand, to cover my left ear to filter the noise.

"Peeta! Katniss! Peeta! Katniss! Katneeta!"His name, my name, his name, our name? Wait. The people are chanting our names and a combination of our names together? Katneeta? Has the world gone mad? I couldn't stop my lips from turning into a grin the moment my ears picked up on the weirdness of it all. Katneeta? Peeta must have heard it too because I could feel his body shaking. I immediately turn my head towards him and he's shaking his head whilst laughing! He must have felt my eyes on him, for he looked back at me and mouthed the words, "heard that? KAT-NEETA!"

Peeta is one hell of an actor to be able to transform from a brooding and angry boy to a warm and laughing victor. He is now grinning at me, just like how he used to, and it feels so familiar that I couldn't help but lean my head on his shoulder and hug his arm. _"Stay, Peeta"_ I say through my actions. This is the Peeta that I recognize. My thoughts are screaming, "_I never want to lose this Peeta"_ even if I know that there's a huge possibility I could, give and take, in a few hours' time.

I feel some pressure on my temple. It is his lips, kissing me tenderly. It is long, reminding me so much of the kiss I gave him back at the arena. The kiss I gave not because it's for the cameras. It feels very much like the kiss that I gave him, for me because I was grateful that I wasn't braving the games alone. If it felt the same, does this prove that our feelings are somehow the same? Do I really have feelings for him too? Or is he simply grateful that I'm here with him? Or is this all an act? This is all very frustrating! Is this how Peeta felt?

Seconds later, the crowd erupts into more cheers. He then laces his fingers with mine and the crowd laughs. I look up to him only to see him pumping his fist in the air, as if in victory. It registers. He got the girl. He got me. The crowd is happy. For us.

I bury my face onto his shoulder, as if to hide, make them believe that I'm embarrassed. In truth, I did it because I couldn't mask my emotions anymore. What's going to happen after this parade when Peeta and I drop off the act? Can we still be friends? When we go to school together, should we still go as a couple? If there are no more cameras, how about the people? Will they report to the Capitol whatever will happen between us?

The District is cheering for us, for being victors and being together. If we take one away, will they still cheer for us like this? Or will they betray us, like how we betrayed their trust? Or are the privileges of being the winning district enough for all of them to keep our dirty little secret and fool the Capitol? Will they all be for me, or against me?

Suddenly I feel the ground vibrating. Peeta's grip on my hand tightens. Both our bodies turn rigid, and completely ready to flee in case anything dreadful is about to happen. This is what the games will do to you. It will make you paranoid. We look at each other, then at the crowds. We are the only ones who are startled. What the hell is this? Has the Capitol finally figured out the lies we have created? What now?

All of a sudden two pillars rose from his side and mine, up to my waist. Then, we both felt a strong gust of wind come from our sides. What used to be platform that we were standing on is now hovering above ground. Slowly, we rise a few feet in the air, just above the people. Immediately, I steady myself on the pillar beside me and look down at all the faces looking up. They're screaming once again, probably cheering for the Capitol's theatrics.

Peeta lifts his cane and directs it to the seemingly empty space around us. We both hear a knocking sound as he taps the invisible wall three times. He shakes his head. "They're too protective. They don't want to lose their victors."

I should be comforted by that fact. However, I cannot help but feel like I am being imprisoned. There is certainly no escaping the Capitol. The moment I volunteered on my sister's behalf at the Reaping, it's like I have been branded as Capitol's property. This brand has all the more been strengthened when I won. My status has been elevated from the hunter that became the hunted in the games that rose as one of the victors. My name soon became a household name. I have defied the rules of the Games. I have defied the Capitol by the stunt I pulled with the berries. And now, they're reinforcing their control over us.

I put on my best smile and try to say as softly as I can to Peeta, "There's no escaping the Capitol, isn't it?"

I don't stop waving my hands at the people below, as the platform hovers above ground to lead both Peeta and I to the other side where I am sure our families are both waiting. We will go back to where it both started. At the place of the Reaping. The square.

There was noise below us and complete silence above in the air. The invisible wall around us didn't filter the screams from below and yet it is as if the sounds are too heavy to reach our little space above. Peeta is simply waving at the crowds like I am. I know he heard me. He probably just didn't want to answer me.

Just when I thought that there's really nothing that can be salvaged in our friendship, Peeta's voice cut in the air.

"You'll find a way. You always do."

My hands stop from waving as I begin to digest what he said. He has always believed in me, and will continue to do so. I turn my head to him, willing myself to try and understand him by looking into his eyes. But I couldn't. His head is bowed and his curly blond hair is shielding the windows to his soul from my probing eyes.

He opens his mouth and begins to say something more. "And I'll…." Whatever he is saying, they all have been lost to the sounds of the trumpets playing for the anthem. I want to ask him to repeat what he said but the anthem is being played loudly, drowning out all the other sounds from the square. There were plenty of people in the station, but here in the square, there are even more people. Our platform is hovering just above the Justice Building. Below us, I could see the Mayor with our families.

I want to scream for them and yet I know that couldn't. This blasted anthem is still playing as the platform is slowly descending. At the center of the Podium stands Mayor Undersee. To his left is Haymitch and to his right there's crazy Effie. Exactly just like the reaping without the glass balls. There won't be any sadness today. Only celebration. To the left side of the podium I could see Peeta's father standing tall with his wife Peeta's 2 brothers.

I saved the best for last. To the right side of the podium, stands my family. I stare at them hungrily as the last notes of the anthem are being concluded. And just when I hear the final note, I jump out of the platform and run as fast as I could to my family. Prim meets me halfway, so I pick her up and twirl her in my arms. Mother comes near, and envelopes us both with an embrace as she repeatedly says my name. "Katniss. Katniss. Oh my Katniss. You made it."

We are laughing, crying, hugging each other, and I couldn't care less even if all the cameras are trained on us, or if I have ruined my makeup or looked like a fool. I have been away from them for so long that the moment I had them in my arms, I felt whole. They are the reasons why I badly wanted to win the games. Now that they're in my arms, it's like I've come full circle.

After minutes of this hearty reunion, Prim cups my face in both of her tiny hands and says, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for coming home."

Prim's words cause a whole new flow of tears to cascade down to my cheeks. I manage to choke out the words, "I promised, didn't I?"

She nods her head and nestles it to the crook of my neck, as I let my arms wrap around her tiny frame. It's like we are puzzle pieces who fit perfectly together. This is where home is. Me, my sister, mother, Gale. Gale!!! Where's Gale? I blink away some tears and search the podium for him. Surely he must be here somewhere, if not in the stage, he must be in front! He's not that hard to find. I just have to look for a mop of black hair that sticks out from the crowd. He's that tall after all.

As I begin to probe my eyes from the podium to the crowd, I am surprised by what I see. Peeta's father is staring at me. Beside him, his wife is wiping her eyes with her handkerchief as her other boys are playfully smacking Peeta's shoulder with their hands. Everyone's attention is on Peeta, and yet his father's attention is trained on me.

I put Prim down and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. I smile at him. He smiles back. Then, he walks towards me, his eyes red and yet filled with happiness. I stand rooted to my spot with Prim beside me, hugging my waist. Mother is sniffing at my other side.

He stops in front of me. His eyes are so red. His glasses are already foggy and the hairs of his head seem to have turned grayer. He looks older and yet the smile on his face makes his face brighter. Kinder. He takes my hand with both of his as the crowd immediately quiets down to hear what he has to say.

He says two words which are more than enough. "Thank you."

After hearing him say those words, I fling myself into his arms with abandon. I don't know why I did it, but I suddenly just had this unexplainable urge to find comfort in the arms of a father. He momentarily tenses, probably surprised at my action. But then, his arms quickly wraps around my shoulders, his hand patting my head just like how a father would.

"Thank you for everything, Katniss. You saved Peeta. You saved yourself. You saved us all. I'm so proud of you." He whispered these words to me and they meant a lot because they're for my ears alone.

I gripped him tighter as I'm reminded of the father I have lost. Is he proud of me now? Wherever he is, I imagine him smiling down at me, pumping his fist in the air and saying, "That's my girl." Then he will sing me a song, a new song that he has just composed and embrace me tightly. Pat my head and say that he's proud of me. But this man holding me now is not my father. He has been gone for 4 years now and yet the truth is, the pain never really goes away. You just learn to live with it. This victory has opened the wound once again, because I want him there on the stage, with my family, celebrating with us. But he's not. Not ever.

I let more tears fall as I grieve for the father I lost. Here in Mr. Mellark's arms, I feel safe and a sense of belongingness I know I will feel so much more in the arms of my own father. So I relish this little feeling that I have, because it's all I've got. It's all I could ever have.

Out of the blue, to distract myself from this grief, I whisper back to Mr. Mellark, "I threw your cookies away at the train. I'm sorry… I didn't… I don't know why I did it… I thought… I thought…"

He loosened his grip on me and placed both of his hands on my shoulders. "No worries. I baked you more cookies." He took something from the inside of his jacket pocket and it resembles the white package he gave me at the Reaping. I open it immediately, take one cookie and bite one large chunk from it.

"HEY!" Peeta hollers from behind Mr. Mellark as he limps towards us. I couldn't help but feel guilty for what I have caused him. He lost his leg because of me. And no matter how many times they tell me that my tourniquet saved his life, I still feel enormously guilty for being responsible for the limb that he has lost. Right, another pain I have inflicted to Peeta. It certainly seems like I have the habit of taking things away from him.

He must have noticed my frown and where it was directed because when he was a foot away from me, he spread his feet and uses his cane to snatch the bag of cookies from my hand. He rips the bag open, steals one cookie and it disappears quickly into his mouth. "thith ane ith tho oothfool," he says with his mouth full.

His mother approaches us and slaps the back of his head with her hand. "Where's your manners, Peeta! Do not talk with your mouth full! And especially not in front of a lady! Certainly not in front of the cameras! OH MY GOODNESS!"

His father merely laughs and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. Unconsciously, my hand reaches up to brush away the crumbs that have spread all over Peeta's shirt. He grins at me, his lips bearing the evidence of the cookie he just ravaged. Again, my hand moves of its own accord to wipe the crumbs from his lips.

All of a sudden we hear whistling from the crowds, and a unified "awwwww". We all have seemed to forget that the cameras are still rolling, and that we are far from being alone. For some unknown reason, I feel my cheeks burn, so I duck my head in embarrassment.

Peeta bows enthusiastically, entertaining the crowd and deviating their attention from me once again. "Oh Peeta, what will I do without you," I thought to myself.

My cheeks are still burning when I lifted my head. My eyes go to the crowd and I instantly see the single person I was looking for before I saw Mr. Mellark staring at me. There he is, standing at the front lines, his hair in a ponytail. His arms are crossed over his chest. His face, devoid of expression. The bags under his eyes, prominent. His frame, thin and ragged. Our eyes connected. My stomach abruptly churned.

I say in a whisper so soft, no one could possibly hear.

"Gale."


	3. Chapter 3: The Stand

**DISCLAIMER**: Suzanne's creativity is something I'm aspiring to have, same goes for all the authors of the novels we all love to read and reread until our eyes bleed or until the pages of those novels become yellow and creased.

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The children scream, the men holler and the women dab their eyes with their handkerchiefs. People all around us are celebrating our victory and our togetherness. And yet as far as my eyes could see, among the banners held high where our names are written, among the hands applauding our feat, among the mouths cheering for us, one person stood out. Unmoved. Unaffected.

Someone steps forward, takes the microphone and speaks. My ears tune out his words. My eyes zone in on that one individual. My heart pounds so loudly against my ear. My fingers feast on the fabric of my jeans. My stomach does somersaults within.

I feel like I owe him an explanation or answers to questions I am sure he is dying to throw at me. The thing is, I don't have the answers yet. I need time. I need more time. But no matter how much time I need, it's hard to ignore the yearning I feel, the sense of belongingness I know I can only find in him, Prim and mother. He is, after all, a person I already consider as family.

There he is, standing so casually a few feet front of me. The person who has my back. My hunting partner. My best friend.

"Oh Gale" my heart whispered.

My eyes wander across his face. He isn't smiling and neither is he scowling. Gale's face is just blank, as blank as an empty canvass could be. But no matter how devoid of expression his face is, he still looks handsome with his long black hair, slightly thick eyebrows, grey eyes, pointed nose and square jaw. He looks different now, so different that his facial features define a man more than a grown up boy. He probably didn't shave for his scruffy chin is hiding the smooth span of skin underneath it.

His frame is lean and yet muscular. He looks thinner and yet his stance makes him look stronger. His biceps, well defined because of all the hunting and lifting we both do at the woods. His clothing is a simple blue shirt and black pants, clean and yet crumpled with the colors slightly faded, probably a testament to how many times it was washed and worn. I wonder what Portia will make him wear if he volunteered in Peeta's place as tribute. Highly unlikely. But I bet Portia and her minions will have a field day on him. Besides, he's 18. He's off the tribute market next year.

I could also see the bags under his eyes and the way his jaw is set. One look at him and it's hard to imagine that he is the same Gale who yells his lungs out in the woods, the Capitol and manipulative bastards and every demeaning word there is all in the same sentence. Or the same Gale whose eyes lit up and mouth waters at the sight of goat cheese. This Gale rather looks intimidating. Older. Fiercer. Drawn. And yet the same Gale that I have known. The same Gale I…

One of his eyebrows shoots upwards. One of mine rises too.

He smirks. And all of a sudden, I now have a feeling that he _knows_. Gale knew all along. Peeta's right. He is smart enough to know a bluff when he sees one. I don't know why, but I feel relieved, like one huge boulder has been knocked off from my shoulder. For weeks, living out a lie made me feel like I have broken his trust. Gale knows everything about me and what he probably saw at the arena… It made me dread our reunion no matter how much I badly wanted to see him. It's like I have stolen a cookie from my mother's jar and I have been caught red-handed. What do you say when you're caught? Oops? But I didn't steal any cookie, haven't I?

_"But you did" _my conscience says. _"You stole Peeta's heart and stamped on it."_

I will these thoughts away and focus on the present. I count to 3. "One. Two. Three." There's Gale. My best friend.

My stomach is now at ease and my cheeks are back to their normal color. Has the storm passed? Or is this the calm before the storm? I wish for the former.

I grin at Gale. He grins back while shaking his head in the process. This has always been the case between us both. He makes me smile. I make him smile. Both of us are just masters of feigning indifference. But deep inside, we both know better. Also, because of too much time spent together in the woods, we could communicate silently and effortlessly. He knows everything about me so it's relatively easy to guess what my next action would be.

We're very much alike. From physical appearance to our personalities, to the burdens we carry, if there's someone who knows me inside out, it's him. And if there's anyone who knows him thoroughly, it should be me.

I wish I could jump from this podium and run straight to his arms because the last time I was in them, we both thought that it was the last time. I was positive I was going to die. As for him, he's a realist. I would have bet all the money I'll get from this victory that he too thought it was the last time we'll ever see each other.

I want to erase that bitter memory and replace it with a happy one by running into those arms again. But I can't. What will the Capitol think? They wouldn't be clapping their hands and say 'awww' at the sight. If he was really my brother, they wouldn't be stomping their feet in disapproval.

What else would they think if I run into the arms of another man who is in no way related to me? It will just be another evidentiary proof that I fooled the Capitol and played a nasty joke on them. I could now imagine the headlines:

**Katniss Everdeen, WHORE! **

**Katniss Everdeen, SLUT! **

**Lover Boy, BETRAYED!**

The Capitol will have a field day when that happens. But I won't give them the satisfaction.

And what was it again that Gale wanted to tell me before he left? I should remember what exactly? I rack my brain for any reminders he might have given me earlier that day. I come up with nothing. Oh well. There is plenty of time for that later. I just want all of this to be over so I could go home with my family and sleep things over. Tomorrow is the time for answering questions, interviews and figuring things out. Today is the reunion. Today is a happy day. Today is an escape. This is what I honestly want just for today.

But we won't always get what we want. That's the golden rule of life.

Gale tilts his head to his left and I immediately understand. Peeta. Did he see our silent communication? I look to my right and see Peeta simply standing there with his curly blond hair being ruffled by the air. It looks so soft. My fingers are itching to touch them so I could push away the hair that's covering his eyes. Exactly like the times when I was nursing him back to health at the arena. But we're no longer at the arena.

I look away because this feeling is alien to me now. We're no longer fighting for our lives. He's better. I'm better. And yet why am I somehow drawn to him still? He is no longer a stranger to me, and yet I still don't know him as much as I know Gale even if I have known Peeta longer. Yes, we shared something at the games that no one could ever understand, except for Haymitch, but why do I want to know Peeta more?

I look down and I notice he is gripping his cane tightly so that his knuckles are becoming bloodless white. He's scratching his head now and looking down.

I finally hear bits and pieces of what is being broadcasted by the speaker. It is Mayor Undersee announcing certain things. I pick up the words "Games, Capitol, Freedom, Panem, Haymitch". God knows what he is saying. History of Panem again? The purpose of the games? The story of Haymitch's former victory? Speaking of Haymitch, where is he? Well, he's probably drunk again somewhere. My real concern as of the moment is how to salvage Peeta's good mood. What's left of it.

What's the big deal about Peeta? Gale signaled something about Peeta when I was staring at him. Did Peeta see us? Or has he gone back to his stoic self, the one who resents me? The one who couldn't bear to look at me because I have used him like how the Capitol has used us both? Why is he gripping his cane like he's in pain? Is his leg hurting? It's all my fault! What does Peeta got to do with Gale and me?

And like an epiphany it hits me. Peeta. Gale. And me. Oh no. Another complication to my already complicated life.

Peeta's jealous of Gale. I look back at Gale and his eyes are trained on Peeta. I look back at Peeta and his head is now turned towards the skies, but with his eyes closed. His stance, his form… he looks resigned. Defeated, somehow.

A stream of memories hit me forcefully like a huge brick falling from the sky. They hit me hard. This epiphany is shocking, revelatory and eye opening.

Back at the Training Center, he told me that he thought Gale and I are cousins because we favor each other. Then, I told him that Gale and I aren't even related. He nodded his head then, his expression to me unreadable. Then after the interviews, after I shoved him, he said that the reason that I was angry was because I was just worried about my boyfriend. Even when I told him I don't have a boyfriend, while blushing, his expression says otherwise. At the arena, he said the only reason I'm looking at him at that moment was because he has no competition there. There was no Gale in the Games. At the woods, when he learned that Haymitch has been coaching me all along, he was worried about one thing. What's going to be left of us once we get home. Why was he worried? Because Gale's here.

It all makes sense now. However, with this revelation, I am suddenly terrified of the time when I have to make sense of my **own** feelings. Make sense of my actions. Which of them were real, which of them were staged? Which of them were for friendship only, which of them were for more? Which of them were motivated by my anger against the Capitol and which of them were because I truly cared for Peeta?

I just want to sink into a black hole and disappear. Times like this I wish there's a glass ball where I could just simply draw out the answers, so life could be so much easier.

But life is not a series of Yes and No questions. There are so many gray areas in this life where it is so hard deciding what's black and what's white anymore.

While I was musing these thoughts, the crowd erupts into applause. Suddenly, the Mayor is handing both Peeta and I plaques, heralding our victory at the hunger games. Prim squeals, my mother claps, Mr. Mellark smiles and his bitch of a wife yells something.

I study the plaque. It's as thin as paper, with golden frames that glitter when hit by the lights, and yet as lightweight as a small chunk of wood. The inside is like marble where the Capitol Logo and my name are embossed in a beautiful script in shining silver ink. Peeta's plaque is identical to mine, except that his name is written in bronze. Below our names are the words **"in Capitol we trust"** carved in tiny and bold letters. At the bottom is a line reminding us that we are merely pawns of their games. Everything we do, even our victory is for them.

"_**Victor of the 74**__**th**__** Hunger Games, for the preservation of all of Panem"**_

I trace it my finger, my jaw clenching in anger. I close my eyes and let it simmer. Let them think I am relishing this moment while in fact, I am reigning in all my hatred against the Capitol for what they have done, are doing and will be doing to all of us.

The Mayor soon hands Peeta and me a set of golden keys and a card that is smaller than my palm. They're supposed to be privileges of the Victors of the Hunger games. It is as if all the riches, fame and glory will compensate for all the horrors you have faced in the arena. The victors are rewarded a house in the Victor's Village as payment for entertaining the audience when the tributes didn't have proper cots to tuck themselves in.

The golden keys are for the houses and a small hovering craft that looks very much like a motorcycle stripped of all its wheels. A mode of short distance transportation, to recompense for the times when our limbs could didn't have any strength to travel the distance in the arena or when all the money in the world could never buy us our ticket to freedom out of death's embrace. The card is for our lifetime allowance to pay for everything we want. Anytime. Anywhere. Just not inside the arena. Just not for freedom from the Capitol.

The winners also have endless supply of food as payback for the perpetual hunger you are fighting against in the games. They randomly pick your name for the games; starve you to death, and when you're lucky, they're going to spoil you with food until you become a glutton, greedy for everything.

It is as if they are telling the winners that all the luxury they enjoy and the money they use are all _rewards_. The Capitol is heralding the winner with a pat on the back, saying "good job for killing the other tributes. We're proud of you."

They pamper us with these luxuries, bribing us to never use our fame to instigate any rebellion, and serve as faithful lapdogs for the Capitol.

I will be a hypocrite to say that I don't need these luxuries, because I do. My family needs them, Gale's family needs them, and our district needs them. What can a normal 16 year old do, really? Nothing highly significant. But what can a victor of the hunger games do? I hope that if the Capitol somehow sensed that my stunt with the berries is an act to defy them, I wish there are people out there who saw it too. People like me who wants change. I want them to know that they're not alone. Let me be a beacon, a call out to the people tired of the Capitol's games.

"_If only I could think of a way… to show the Capitol that they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games."_

Peeta's words echo loudly in my ear. For a boy whom I initially thought to be living the good life with no complaints before the Games, he certainly surprised me with how he views this dictatorial government breathing down our necks. We are one and the same.

If the time will come, when I have to make a stand against the Capitol, will he be able to put his resentment against me aside and be motivated by the same words he told me at that rooftop of the Training Center? Or has he completely turned his back on me?

I look at Gale again. Will he be willing to sacrifice his family and stop merely voicing out his complaints against the Capitol, but rather start doing something about them?

I look at my family. Will they be blinded by these luxuries we are promised to enjoy and be ready to suffer and sacrifice even more than we did before, to stand in this battle with me?

I look at the whole of District 12. Will they be against us, afraid to be yet another District 13, or will they be for us?

I look at myself. I already know where I stand. Question is when do I move forward?

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Guys, thanks for reading! I know the chapters are long, but you guys have been patient, sticking with me all the way. Reviews, in truth, are inspiring. So please let them come, no matter how short or long, I don't care. :D


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